


Fixing Life

by camichats



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst, Body Swap, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, OMGCP 14 Days of Love, Post Epi-Kegster, Pre-Slash, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 06:01:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9586976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camichats/pseuds/camichats
Summary: "Kent’s first thought upon waking was 'this isn’t my room'. His second was 'fuck'."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Kent has bpd canonically right? Well, i try to put that in here but i didn't do any research on it, so this MAY be a hot mess. If you know better, PLEASE TELL ME. Oh and i know fuck-all about hockey so what little this mentions is what i've gotten from tumblr and fic.

 

Kent’s first thought upon waking was  _ this isn’t my room.  _ His second was  **_fuck_ ** because surely--  _ surely _ \-- the universe wasn’t this cruel. He didn’t technically recognize the room around him, but it was obviously that fucking Haus or whatever that Zimms was staying at in Samwell. The only good thing Kent could think of at the moment was that at least he wasn’t in Jack’s body. That would’ve been… an even bigger mess. After the way Kent had totally fucked up everything he’d meant to say to him, it was no goddamn wonder Zimms had kicked him out. Showing up  _ the next fucking day  _ in _ someone else’s body, _ his  _ teammates’ body _ wasn’t going to earn him any points. 

Kent paused, waiting for a large wave of self-loathing and misplaced anger to rush over him, but nothing happened. He frowned, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Oh. Right. Different body. Knowing that he felt certain emotions due to a chemical imbalance in his brain was one thing, being able to experience the difference was a whole other game. He hoped the guy in his body was still asleep while he tried to figure this shit out. 

Kent could make out a bedside table with what looked like- ah yes, their phone. He picked it up, unplugging the bottom automatically when the cord tugged. He clicked the home button and the screen lit up, far too bright for the darkness in the room even though it was obvious the brightness was turned down as far as it could be. 6:26. Why the  _ fuck _ was he awake this early. Maybe the person whose body he was in had trouble sleeping through the night? That kegster thing would’ve meant he was awake until  _ maybe _ an hour or two ago. This kid needed more than an  _ hour _ of uninterrupted sleep for christ’s sake. 

He sighed, and it was softer than he was used to. The background picture was Beyoncé, which didn’t help Kent identify this guy. He felt a stab of guilt as he realised that he’d probably met him last night, and just didn’t remember ‘cause he’d had fucking tunnel vision with Zimms at the center. 

He swiped the screen, hoping that there wasn’t a passcode. There was. Shit. Okay, so he couldn’t make any calls unless he talked to someone else in here first. He grimaced, labeling that Plan B and desperately racked his brain for a Plan A. When the beginnings of panic started to trickle in, he made himself stop and took several deep breaths.  _ Just think, Kent. What do you need to do by the time this guy wakes up in your body _ ? Swoops was next door to him and always came over to make sure he didn’t forget anything, so, call Swoops and tell him it’s Switch Day and he needs to take care of the dude, aka give him some of Kent’s meds. Kent paused as it hit him that that was literally all he needed to do. Everything else that needed to be settled would be done so by talking to this other guy. Although it would sure as hell be helpful if Kent could place him because he would know who Kent was. 

He brought up the camera and took a quick selfie with the phone turned around, the flash momentarily blinding him.  _ Jesus _ that was bright. Kent frowned at the picture before it clicked who it was and his stomach dropped. He didn’t know his name-- wasn’t sure he’d even been told it-- but  _ fuck _ he knew who it was. This guy had been looking at Jack with hearts in his eyes and later had been outside his door when Kent was… well. He wouldn’t be thrilled to know they were soulmates. He would hate him. Shit, this was- Kent didn’t even know his name. Kent didn’t know his name, they were soulmates, and he had to think Kent was a terrible person. 

Before Kent could talk himself even lower (because apparently not  _ everything _ about his moods had to do with the chemicals in his brain), the phone in his hands lit up started to vibrate. He was thoroughly unsurprised (but amused) when Video Phone started playing as the ringtone. He hesitated for only a moment when he saw his number written across the screen. Kent cleared his throat uncomfortably, accepting the call and haltingly lifting it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Oh sweet lord is that what I sound like in the mornings?” Hearing the unfamiliar phrase in his own voice made Kent want to laugh, but he restrained himself, fearing it would come out hysterical. 

“Guess so.” 

“Did I wake you?” 

“Nah. I was wondering though, do you have trouble sleeping through the night? After that party, I thought you’d be out as soon as you hit the sheets.” 

“I’ve always been a light sleeper,” he said with a verbal shrug. “You, on the other hand mister, sleep like a mountain.” 

“A… mountain?” 

“Like a rock only worse,” he said as if it was obvious. 

Kent laughed, but instead of it being the chuckle he was used to, it was a giggle. Already this guy seemed too pure for him. The thought dampened the humor he’d been feeling and he cleared his throat again. “I don’t think I know your name,” he admitted in a small voice. 

“Eric Bittle at your service, most people call me Bitty.” He didn’t seem offended at all, which comforted Kent in his thought that he hadn’t been told it last night. Bitty. God the universe was really trying to fuck with him weren’t they? 

“Ah- well, you probably already know, but I’m Kent, or Parse if you want, I’m not fussy.” Kent had the strong urge to tell him not to call him Kenny, but that wasn’t a topic he wanted to bring up. “Do you care which one I call you?” 

“No, whatever you want is fine. So, Kent.” 

“So Eric.” 

“Your teammate-- uh, Swipps, I think?-- is talking to the coaches. He’s also the one that let me in your phone, but don’t worry, I haven’t been snooping.” 

Kent laughed. “It’s Swoops, and tell him thanks for me. You’re more than welcome to look through my camera roll, it’s just hundreds of pictures of Kit.” 

“Oh could I?” Eric said, sounding like Christmas had come early. “I follow her Instagram, she is the sweetest.” 

Kent gave a blissful sigh. “I know.” 

Eric laughed, bright and open in a way Kent felt his laughs rarely were. “I suppose we should start talking about what to do today?” 

“Actually…” Kent swallowed hard. “I wanted to talk to you about something else. First. To- clear the air? I guess. I don’t-.” He took a deep breath, trying to orient himself enough to have this conversation. 

There was silence on the other end for a minute. “Is this about you and Jack?” 

Kent nodded, more to give himself courage than anything else. “Yeah. I- um.” He licked his lips and tried to think of how to phrase it without outing Zimms or giving anything personal about him away. 

“Look,” Eric said gently, “I don’t understand, but no matter what you’ve done, I want to try to be with you. I don’t want to throw this away because you lost your temper.” His voice got quiet and small as he said next, “Swoops had me take your medication today. And I heard some of what you said to him last night.” 

Kent took a shuddering breath in, his eyes slipping shut as he evenly exhaled. His eyelids opened to observe the slowly lighting room. “We used to be close. Zimms was going through a lot of shit, and we were young, and I didn’t really understand what was happening to him. It was a terrible time in his life, but for me… it was the opposite. Zimms was the first real friend I had, he helped me with my hockey, we were so in synch with each other and I got swept up in it. 

“I miss playing with him,” he said, voice going small. “I only meant to ask if he was considering coming to the Aces-- thought I could convince him to, if he wasn’t-- and then I was hurt and I lashed out. I wanted to make him feel how I felt....Eric, say something,” he pleaded. 

“You said some really shitty things to Jack last night.” The hints of a hard edge in his voice let Kent know just how upset Eric was. This wasn’t the sort of anger that would go away in a single reassurance, but… Eric was willing to try. He was mad at Kent, but he’d said before that he  _ wanted to try _ and he meant it right? 

Kent swallowed, hanging his head to stare at an unfamiliar lap. “I know.” 

There was a choked off laugh from the other end. “Sweet lord if that’s what I sound like when I feel bad it’s no wonder I never get scolded twice.” 

Kent laughed and, well, if there was an edge of desperation to it, Eric didn’t mention it. 

“Look Kent, I don’t expect you to be perfect. Jack’s my captain and my friend though, and I  _ do _ expect you to apologize to him once you mean it.” Eric was strong yet comforting and Kent hadn’t even known his voice could do that. 

“I will. It’s a much bigger question if he’ll listen,” Kent couldn’t stop the trickle of bitterness that ran in that sentence. He cleared his throat. “I have a very good angry voice-- even if you’re not using it-- but it doesn’t bother any of the team because they know it’s fake.” 

“What, you’re never angry?” Eric’s tone was casual now, not asking him about his slip-up concerning Zimms, and Kent couldn’t help but be relieved. Soulmates indeed. 

He shook his head even though he knew Eric couldn’t see it. “It’s not that. More like… I’m never angry at  _ them _ .”  _ or anyone that isn’t myself _ , he added silently. Eric deserved to know he was a fucking disaster, but… well, it seemed like he knew it pretty well already. 

Eric huffed a small laugh. Kent imagined it sounded like music when he was in his own body. “That’s good. It does make me think, Mister Parson, that you take it out on yourself instead.” 

Kent flushed. How the hell did this person he’d just met know him so fucking well? He mentally slapped himself. Soulmates. Apparently it wasn’t all romanticised bullshit. He cleared his throat before answering in an even tone, “You have no proof Mister Bittle.” 

“Uh-huh, sure,” he elongated the ‘u’ in ‘sure’ as if Kent didn’t know the smug tone alone that Eric didn’t believe him. 

“Careful there Eric, it sounds like you’re warming up to me.” 

He heaved a put-upon sigh. “Well my mama always taught me to see the best in people; it’s not my fault her lessons are showing through.” 

Kent laughed. “You sound ridiculous saying those things with my voice.” 

“It’s only fair;  _ I _ think  _ you _ sound ridiculous talking with  _ my _ voice.” Eric sighed then, coming back to the original point of their phone call. “Anyways, is there anything I need to do while I’m you today?” 

Kent thought it over. “Swoops will get you to the bus and checked into the next hotel. There’s no skate today, no game, no anything except traveling. You’ll just have to suffer a day with the Aces.” 

Eric laughed, the sound warming Kent inside. “I can think of worse things. I’ll get all sorts of dirt on you, Parson, just you wait.” 

Kent groaned. “Have pity Eric.” 

“I don’t think so,” he said in a sing-song voice. “Are you out to anyone? I don’t think I said anything incriminating to Swoops earlier, but I’m not sure,” he said, apologetic. 

“No it’s fine, he knows. The team and coaches know too, so don’t worry about it. Just don’t go tweeting that you’re a dude and we’ll be perfect. How ‘bout you?” 

“The team for me too, but that’s it.” 

“Uh-huh. What about, you know,  _ who _ I am?” He didn’t want to lie to Zimms, but he also didn’t want to have the discussion that would follow-- inevitable though it was. 

“You can tell Jack,” he assured. “As for everyone else, if they know it’s okay, I just feel kinda strange tellin’ folks when I don’t know you very well.” 

Kent nodded; that made sense. 

“They’re all quite nosy, so they might try ‘n interrogate you.” 

“If I don’t survive, you and Swoops can share custody of Kit. Just make sure my princess is loved.” 

Eric laughed. “Will do, Mister Parson.” 

“It’s a pity you can’t see her today. I’ve heard that cats know when it’s a Switch Day.” 

“Dogs as well. It must be that sixth sense animals have. Besides, I want to meet that cutie in my own body. First impressions are important you know, and pretending to be her papa won’t win me any points.” 

“Why Eric it sounds as if you’re moving a little fast; we haven’t even been on a date yet and you’re talking about meeting the family.” 

He hummed. “All in good time, mister. It’s not like I have the money to fly out to Vegas anyways.” 

“I could pay for your ticket,” Kent offered instantly. “Uh, if you wanted to, that is. I won’t be home for another two weeks so it’s not like you need to decide right now.” 

“I’ll consider it,” he said warmly. 

“What do I need to do as you today?” 

“Oh. Um… Nothing I can think of. There’s no classes, no practice. The Epi-kegster was last night, so they could use your help cleaning up?” 

Kent wrinkled his nose. “I do not regret going straight to the NHL.” 

“Sweetheart, I doubt you’ve done  _ anything _ straight in your life.” 

Kent snorted. That was probably true. He knew that Jack had had an adjustment period, where he realized he was gay and then accustomed himself to the idea, but Kent never had that. Someone had been talking about sex and he’d known he liked men and that was that. He wondered which experience was closer to Eric’s. “Have you?” he challenged. 

“Of course not,” Eric scoffed, making Kent grin. For all that he’d cared about Zimms, he’d never understood the fear of being outed-- one of the many issues they had in that relationship. “I think some folks back home think I’m straight. Though that has more to do with them than me, ‘cause I wasn’t exactly hidin’.” 

Kent laughed. “I know the feeling. The Aces? They found out I was gay because I made a joke that wouldn’t have worked if I was fucking straight, you know?” 

“Do I ever.” Eric made a little impatient noise afterwards, completely at odds with his easy tone. 

“Everything alright over there? Not damaging my perfect bod are ya?” 

“No, no, believe me  _ I _ wouldn’t want to destroy this masterpiece--” Kent grinned “--but Swoops  _ is _ tellin’ me to hang up the phone, and I believe he will use force if I don’t comply.” 

“He is fucking huge. Have fun over there yeah? Maybe they’ll fill your head with tales of how great I am so it’ll take you longer to realize the truth. I’ll be texting you, so keep your phone-- or shit I guess it’s technically my phone-- whatever, keep it close. You don’t want me wandering around unsupervised.” 

“I’m sure that’s true. You’d probably adopt all the strays in the town if I let you. Have fun, darlin’, and talk to Jack.” With that, they both ended the call, leaving Kent to stare at Eric’s lock screen of Beyoncé in something like shock. It… hadn’t been terrible. He’d kinda fucked up-- what else is new-- but Eric hadn’t cared. Or, well, he’d  _ cared _ but he hadn’t run for the hills which was a better than outcome Kent had learned to expect. 

_ Talk to Jack _ , he’d said. Well fuck. He checked the time; Jack would be up by now, he figured, but there  _ had _ been a party last night, so maybe he was still asleep? Kent puffed out a breath and shook his head. It was a flimsy excuse and Eric wouldn’t accept it. Kent couldn’t really remember how he sounded in his own body last night, but he could easily imagine the disapproval.  _ Why me? _ he asked himself, eyes cast towards the ceiling. Why had he chosen  _ now _ to care what someone thinks of him? A traitorous part of him whispered something about soulmates but he ignored it, swinging to his feet and stretching his arms up with a satisfied groan. 

Eric’s phone buzzed in his hands with a new message. 

_ Unknown Number: Swoops claims to be your best friend, but he takes far too much pleasure in seeing me stumble around in yr body. I suspect duplicity. _

A warm smile stretched across Kent’s face. He added himself to Eric’s contacts under “Mister KVP” with a few heart eyes emojis after. 

_ Good _

_ Don’t let him take any pics if you don’t want _

_ Mister KVP: Does that mean YOU don’t care? _

Kent made a face and took off the heart emojis after his name. 

_ He has plenty of embarrassing pics _

He kept the phone in his hands while he opened Eric’s dresser looking for clothes for the day. 

_ Mister KVP: Should I be worried??? _ A little sweating emoji was tagged on the end. 

_ Aces don’t take me srsly, I don’t either _

_ Do you not have ANY plaid? _

_ Mister KVP: Sweetheart, I live in Georgia, I leave my plaid down there. _

_ Note to self-- buy Eric more plaid so I can steal them _

_ Mister KVP: Edited note to Kent-- maybe I’ll wait for Eric to steal MY shirts. _

_ … _

_ Why not both? _

_ Mister KVP: You’re hopeless. _

_ Mister KVP: And I don’t wear plaid bc it tricks Coach into thinking I’m straight. _

Kent paused and frowned at the message, half way to taking off his shirt. Southerners are weird, first of all. Second of all… that didn’t sound like he was talking about Samwell’s hockey coaches. 

_ Coach? _

He set the phone down on the dresser top and stripped. It buzzed, but he ignored it in favor of pulling on clothes. 

_ Mister KVP: Oh. My dad.  _ Kent frowned down at the words and the stilted way Eric had answered. 

_ … _

_ You call your dad coach? _

_ Mister KVP: I’m junior. _

_ Southerners are fucking weird _ he texted, even though he wanted to question what kind of fucking father-son relationship that was supposed to be. Kent didn’t exactly have experience outside of Bad Bob, but even  _ he _ knew that couldn’t be healthy. He mentally pat himself on the back for not being an invasive little shit and asking about it like he wanted to. Soulmates they might be, but they’d known each other a grand total of seven hours. 

_ Mister KVP: I will make you eat those words at a later date Mister Parson.  _ There were several slices of pie emojis.

_ Mister KVP: Swoops is glaring at me like he’s gonna snap your phone in half ttyl. _ A wide smiley face was attached. 

Kent knew exactly the look Eric was talking about (it could almost always be solved by Kit pictures). Swoops had yet to  _ actually _ break Kent’s phone, but it wasn’t something he wanted to risk. 

_ Have fun _ He hesitantly opened the door and padded out. He stopped when he saw a questionable substance on the floor ahead of him, and turned around, walking back into Eric’s room. The socks were easy to find since he’d seen them before, but he did spend an embarrassing amount of time trying to find shoes before he realized they were lined neatly in the space under the dresser. 

The lack of arch support threw Kent’s mind for a loop, but Eric’s body was used to this so he didn’t stumble. He wondered how Eric would do if he had to get on the ice. He knew how to skate obviously-- Kent had watched Samwell’s games-- but the combination of a different body and muscle memory could make the situation questionable. Kent half-wished he could put on a pair of skates and give it a go himself. 

His first thought upon entering the Haus’s kitchen was:  _ I wouldn’t have thought this table could hold that many cups. _ His second was:  _ Do these _ seriously _ have shit in them still? _

After the first cup he picked up was sticky, Kent promised Eric’s hands a thorough washing later and dumped the radioactive-looking green liquid down the drain. The second cup he handled didn’t seem as sticky as the first, but that might’ve been an illusion caused by his already-tainted hand. He let his mind blank as he emptied and stacked cups until the table was clear-- well, mostly. College kids=messy. He was  _ very _ glad he didn’t bother going. 

“Don’t you have gloves bro?” 

Kent turned around. “Oh. Hey. Shitty, right?” Kent remembered him vaguely, but better than anyone else at the party. He was laid back and had a killer mustache, currently clad only in boxer briefs. 

Shitty frowned as it took a minute for it to click. “Switch Day!” He was grinning widely at Kent and took a half step forward before stopping. “Sorry I’m very tactile-- I’ll try to keep my hands to myself if that bothers you.” 

Kent rolled his eyes and held his arms open for a hug. Shitty smiled again and hugged him hard enough to pick him up a little. Kent… might have squeaked; it’s an open case. “I would’ve used gloves if I’d thought about it. Also if I knew where they were.” 

Shitty shrugged when he took a step back, but not far enough away to be considered a ‘normal’ distance. “I wish I could tell you brah, but I don’t know.” 

Kent shrugged back and resisted the urge to crawl under Shitty’s arm; casual touches were amazing and this guy gave them out so freely. Kent half-wished he’d gone to Samwell just to meet him, but he shook the thought from his head before it could take root. He was happy with his life-- mostly-- and Jack would have needed Shitty’s friendship when he came here much more than Kent would have. Speaking of… “Is Jack up yet?” There was a bit of a stilted pause when he said ‘Jack’, accustomed to saying ‘Zimms’. 

“You know Jack?” 

“Uh, yeah.” Shit. Shit shit and shit. 

Shitty’s eyes were narrowed as he stared at him, not accusing, but discerning and therefore alarming Kent all the same. 

Kent scratched his head as he tried to do some quick thinking-- not his strong suit off the ice. Shitty would probably figure this out soon ‘cause Kent wasn’t exactly discreet, so it would be better to tell him right? “Look, I’m gonna tell him who I am when I see him. He’ll uh, probably want to be alone after that.” 

The gears were working in his head, and his eyes went wide when it clicked. “Parson?” 

Kent waved sheepishly. “The timing’s kinda total shit.” 

Shitty let out a sigh. “I’ll say. Not that it’s your fault or anything.” Kent gave him a flat look. “Look dude, it’s an unavoidable situation. He’s already up, so go, say what you need to say, then get back down here and we’ll pretend you’re okay.” 

Kent fidgeted with his hands, wanting to put it off but knowing it would be futile. “Yeah okay.” He walked towards the stairs and Eric’s phone buzzed in his pocket. 

It was a selfie with Swoops, Eric wearing a triumphant, sunny grin that wasn’t often found on Kent’s face. 

_ Mister KVP: I think I’ve won him over. _ There were several smiling emojis.  _ Looks like you’re stuck with me. _

Kent smiled down at the texts. Well, even if the conversation/apology with Zimms tanked, he’d have this. 

**Author's Note:**

> **Edit March 5, 2017: I'm calling this a one-shot. Sorry for the change :/**


End file.
